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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308485">Of Golden Roses and Dire Wolves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang'>urisarang</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box Exchange, Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lesbian Margaery Tyrell, POV Alternating, soft, with only a hint of hurt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:21:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308485</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/urisarang/pseuds/urisarang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Sansa has come to the south, to King's Landing, she has faced cruelty after cruelty.  Her family was betrayed, her father murdered, and her family name dragged through the mud.  At nearly every turn she has been met with hatred and disdain from all who cross her path—all but a few kind faces.  </p><p>The most surprising one, being that of Joffery's wife, Margaery Tyrell.  She has every reason to despise Sansa with a passion greater than that of most others and yet she does not.  In fact, she goes out of her way to help Sansa feel welcome.  It could have been a game, a ploy as everything seems to be in this wretched place—but it's not.  Margaery actually seems to care for her, though Sansa cannot imagine why.</p><p>So one day, she asks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chocolate Box - Round 6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Golden Roses and Dire Wolves</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/jammerific/gifts">jammerific</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi!  I have not written for GoT before, but have long loved the show and books.  I hope that I have done them justice and you enjoy my short little story. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~~~~Sansa~~~~~~~</p>
</div><br/><br/><p>“Why do you keep inviting me to tea?”  Sansa asks, her voice holds steady.  She can ill afford to betray the anxiety she feels questioning Margaery’s actions.  “I don’t need your pity,” her words spoken too harshly for one in her position.  She takes a deep breath and continues much softer.  “Nor do I wish to have you lose face for associating with me.”</p><p>Margaery’s lips quirk in a familiar way.  This is the face she makes when she knows something someone else does not—a familiar sight for Sansa.  Sansa knows that she is just a stupid girl, has had to come face to face with that fact in the harshest of ways since arriving at King’s Landing.</p><p>She lives only at the mercy of the Lannisters—The very people who murdered her father.  Every day that passes, every sleepless night she cannot forget it.  Will not forget it.  </p><p>Not that it would be hard to forget what monsters they all are when Joffery goes so far out of his way to be cruel towards her.  </p><p>Which makes it all the more confusing that his wife, Margaery, goes so far out of her way to be kind to Sansa.  At first, she thought it an act, like how she is with the common folk.  Just as she would spend much time and coin feeding those less fortunate, an act to curry favor, to gain popularity—Sansa assumed her actions towards herself were done in the same vein. </p><p>Much how Joffery had pretended to be kind and decent with Sansa what feels like a lifetime ago.  A trick, a ploy to gain something.</p><p>Since her time in King’s Landing she has learned how differently their court works.  The houses that serve the Crown do not do so out of loyalty—but out of fear.  Threats, backroom dealings, and blackmail are not only expected but praised.  So very different from her home in the north.</p><p>The south is writhe with cruelty and falsehoods.</p><p>But also kindness, at least concerning the Tyrells.  Both Lady Tyrell and her granddaughter, have shown Sansa kindness when no other would.  </p><p>Perhaps when no other should.  </p><p>Sansa is hated by all who would call King’s Landing home.  Her father died a traitor, falsely accused of conspiring to kill the king—there could be no greater shame.  She hears whispers of traitor’s blood when she walks the halls, and most would sooner spit on her than to speak with her.</p><p>So why would the Tyrells care to help her?  To even be seen speaking with her?  </p><p>Many sleepless nights were spent pondering what they could possibly hope to gain with currying her favor but not one thing came to mind.  After a time she was forced to admit that perhaps their kindness was simply that.</p><p>A kindness.  </p><p>“I do not pity you,”  Margaery replies, setting her cup down on the table freeing her hands.  She reaches over placing both hands on Sansa’s where she loosely holds onto her cup.  Her breath quickens, though she manages to keep her face neutral.  “Nor do I care what anyone thinks about us.  Let them think what they wish, they will never come close to discovering the truth.”</p><p>It is always so hard to think when Margaery does this.  Touches her so gently, and carefully instead of painfully as she has come to expect from those in this cursed city.  It takes her a moment to draw her attention away from the warm hands on her own and think about what was said.</p><p>“The truth?”  She asks, looking up from their hands to meet Margaery’s eyes.  Needing to see if her answers will ring true.  “And what is the truth?  The Queen and the almost Queen having tea and breaking fast together?  One would think I would be a threat, or at the very least a danger.”</p><p>Margaery lets out a musical laugh, her face lighting up.  She takes one of her hands back to cover her lips until she regains control over herself.</p><p>“You are no threat to me,” she starts and Sansa’s face heats.  Her heart racing inside her chest as fear overtakes her.</p><p>“I misspoke—of course I am no threat to you,”  she apologizes.  “You are smart and very beautiful—”</p><p>“And so are you,”  Margaery interrupts, replacing her hand over Sansa’s and giving it a squeeze.  “Smart, beautiful, so very, very brave.  If our situation were different you would make a most dangerous opponent—so it is a good thing we have nothing to compete over.</p><p>“Neither of us wants Joffery,” Sansa opens her mouth but Margaery stops her before she can start with a look.  She closes her mouth with a click.  “I want to be Queen, that he has to be my king?  Unfortunate, but at least we share a mutual disinterest.”  </p><p>Her nose wrinkles in distaste and Sansa can’t help but let out a small laugh.  Margaery, heir to the Tyrell fortune, Queen of the seven kingdoms, to see such an expression on her face?  </p><p>Unbecoming, but very cute Sansa cannot help but think.  </p><p>“What I <i>am</i> interested in?”  She starts leaning over the table as if she intends to tell Sansa a secret.  “Is you.”</p><p>“Me?”  Sansa says, leaning back in confusion.  “Why me?”</p><p>“Did I not just say how I find you beautiful?”  Her lips quirk up and her eyes dance playfully.  “I can go on if you like.  I could tell you how lovely your smile is, how it lights up an entire room when you deign it fit to grace me with its beauty.</p><p>“I could sing songs of your fiery red hair, and write poems about your flawless skin,”  Sansa cannot be hearing this right.  This must be some mistake, some game.  But Margaery’s eyes show no falsehood.  “I could tell you of the sleepless nights I have spent laying awake thinking of you.   Worrying about you whenever you are not near—and how much I wish to hold you close.</p><p>“To hold and love you as you deserve.  To show you a more beautiful world where neither one of us would have to feel the bitter sting of loneliness,”  Margaery pulls Sansa’s hand towards herself, bowing her head low and pressing a kiss of her lips against her hand.  </p><p>Sansa scarcely dares draw breath.  Transfixed on the sight before her.  Hand tingling with the sensation of soft lips against her skin.</p><p>Margaery pulls back, a coy smile on her face.  She raises an eyebrow at Sansa.</p><p>“Are my intentions clear enough, so should I go on?”  She says it both as a challenge and a promise.  </p><p>“I don’t—”  Sansa starts, fumbling to find words.  Any words at all.  “I never— I. . .”  Margaery squeezes her fingers, her expression going soft once more.</p><p>“Never thought of me that way?”  She asks, somehow understanding Sansa when she herself does not.  “Or any woman?”</p><p>“B-Both,”  she answers truthfully.  “I mean no offense but—”</p><p>“Could you not see me in this way?”  Margaery asks.  “In the way that I see you?”</p><p>“I don’t—-I don’t know,”  Sansa had not even realized it was a possibility until this very moment.  She had been raised as a lady, she knew her destiny lied with marriage to a nobleman.  It was expected of her, of someone in her station.</p><p>But what of her situation now?</p><p>No one expects anything of her, her social ranking could not be lower than it already is as the daughter of a traitor.  She would not be married off, nor would she be allowed to bear children.  As long as the Lannisters were in power, the Stark bloodline—her bloodline—would be considered cursed and would end with her.</p><p>She stops and thinks about it for a long moment.  Up until this moment, she had merely been surviving and as such had made no plans for a future she did not think she would live to see.  But if she had someone as powerful and influential as Margaery on her side. . .</p><p>No, not just on her side—but  <i>beside</i> her? </p><p>It is a strange thought, but not entirely unpleasant.  Not unpleasant at all if Sansa is being honest with herself.  She has greatly enjoyed all the time spent in Margaery’s company, always looking forward to their next meeting.  But most of all? </p><p>She has been looking forward to the next casual brush of their fingers—though now she knows there was nothing casual about those touches. Strangely, she finds that she does not mind.  In fact, if anything?  It makes all the times Margaery has reached out all the more special.  </p><p>She meant for her touch to be a comfort.  A connection between them.  It was not an act done in pity, nor was it only Sansa who cared so much for those stolen touches.  </p><p>“Can I think on this or do you need an answer now?”  Sansa asks, Margaery smiles kindly at her.</p><p>“That was all I wanted, for you to think on it.  To think of me, to think of <i>us</i>.  Of what we could become to one another,” Margaery leans over reaching out with a delicate hand.  She brushes a lock of hair behind Sansa’s ear and her face goes red.  Fingers gently stroke along Sansa’s cheek and Sansa’s eyes close all on their own at the sensation.</p><p>At the knowledge of the feelings behind the touch.</p><p>Maybe she can do this.  Maybe there is hope for her in King’s Landing after all.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~~~Margaery~~~~~~</p>
</div><br/><br/><p>Slowly, bit by bit Sansa let her guard down with Margaery.  It is a long journey they are on, and not without setbacks but as a Tyrell—grand schemes and patience are in their blood.  She could and would wait for Sansa for years if need be.  It would be worth it to have someone like her—no not someone like her—<i>her</i>.</p><p>Though she is often ignorant to the cutthroat ways of noble society she is far from stupid.  The lessons she has learned were learned the hard way, much to Margaery’s regret but they were learned well.  </p><p>Under her and her grandmother’s wings, Sansa would grow into a formidable force at court.  A shrewd ally to have at her side even if she did not return Margaery’s feelings.  </p><p>But her brave little wolf did.  It was clear as a sunny day that Sansa cared for her.  It shinned in her eyes, and in the redding of her face whenever they would steal a moment alone together.  In the way her fingers trembled the first time she reached out to Margaery instead of the other way around.</p><p>And the first time they kissed?  Just a brush of their lips together?  It was not Margaery’s first kiss, not by far and yet it felt like it.  With Sansa the act became special.  It held meaning where the hundreds before it did not.</p><p>They were both red in the face after that.  Giggling and smiling as they held hands daring to lean in for more.  Sansa was innocent in the ways of love and romance where Margaery was not so she took it slow at first as a kindness to Sansa, but soon she found she enjoyed the sedate pace just as much.</p><p>Taking their time with one another?  Not rushing, nor feeling the pressure—it was perfect.  Or at least it would be if it were not for Joffery and his cruel, twisted desires.    </p><p>Though he had no desire to lay with Margaery he took his pleasure in other ways—usually at the cost of some other poor girl.  Margaery was raised to be strong in the face of men, her grandmother would have nothing less—but Joffery put true fear into her.  He would make her watch sometimes and while she was very, very careful to not let the fear show on her face—monsters like him?</p><p>He could smell it on her, she was sure of it.  </p><p>He would not dare raise a hand against her, not with her grandmother, The Queen of Thorns, keeping close watch—but Sansa had no such protection. </p><p>As Margaery worked to get Sansa out of her shell, Joffrey worked even harder to break her down.  Cruel words and nearly daily reminders that she lived and breathed only at his will weighed heavily on her.   </p><p>Times like today where Sansa can only lay her head on Margaery’s lap and weep silently for herself.  For the family she has lost.  Margaery runs her fingers through Sansa’s hair trying to soothe the ache inside her lover’s heart.  She whispers sweet words, promises of a better life.</p><p>Her words are not empty promises, one day they will have their happy ending after a life well lived together.  Tyrells are masters of planning, of waiting for the right moment to strike.  She would plan and scheme to make her dream of a future with Sansa come true.</p><p>She bends over and presses a kiss against Sansa’s forehead as if sealing a vow.  She will do all that she must in order to free Sansa from her suffering.  To give her the life she deserves—by Margaery’s side. </p><p>She swears it.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>~~~~~~Olenna~~~~~~~~</p>
</div><br/><br/><p>The garden in King’s Landing pales in comparison to any of the many they have at home.  It is not called High Garden for no reason after all, but she enjoys the reminder of home she has here.</p><p> King’s Landing is a den of snakes in lion’s skin, games within games play out under her watchful gaze.  She may play at being an old fool of a woman, but she is anything but.  She pulls strings, spends coin, and whispers in ears all while enjoying tea and biscuits in the royal garden.  Surrounded by beauty and soft flowers people often drop their guard with her.  </p><p>A kindly grandmother is what they see, and she is that—there is no question how she loves her grandchildren but that is precisely what makes her so dangerous.</p><p>She sees the evil in Joffery, an evil that has only one cure.  Much like her late husband, Joffery too will have to suffer an accident.  For her grandaughter’s sake and that of the seven kingdoms.  </p><p>High pitched laughter and giggling can be heard coming out from behind a rose bush.  Soon the source of the sounds can be seen as Sansa and Margaery walk arm in arm through the garden.  Olenna watches as Margaery tucks a small red flower behind Sansa’s ear and the matching blush that action raises on the girl’s cheeks.</p><p>That both her grandchildren would grow to love their own sex was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one.  High Garden, under her rule, has become known for welcoming all kinds and shaming none.  </p><p>Like Dorne, it is one of the few places men and women can openly show their love for one another without any worry of repercussion.  Love is love after all.  Something more people could do to learn if you asked her.</p><p>It warms her heart to see her grandaughter so happy, it is clear she holds great love for the Stark girl.  A pity that their situation is not ideal, but it is no matter.  Olenna raises a cup of tea and takes a sip.</p><p>A plan is already in motion, though far more rushed than she would like—the happy sounds of the girls’ laughter echoing through the garden as they pass through—she is sure it will be a success.</p><p>She would have nothing less than the absolute best for her grandaughters.</p>
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